


Insignia

by kaesaria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Branding, Confused Bucky Barnes, Dark, Gen, HYDRA Trash Party, Past Abuse, Scarification, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7845445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaesaria/pseuds/kaesaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please,” Bucky tries one more time, “I’m so sorry.  I promise, I know who I belong to.”<br/>_____<br/>Written in response a prompt on the trashmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insignia

**Author's Note:**

> _**Prompt:** Hydra marks its property, and Bucky has a hydra logo branded or scarred into him. Much later, when the gang is back together, he is injured in a mission and the mark discovered. Crossed out and a similar one of Steve's star or the avengers logo has been carefully put in right next to it. He is their property now. The group's horrified reaction, and mass heartbreak._  
> 
> [thefilthiestpiglet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet) did a fill for the same prompt—check out her [beautiful (nsfw) art and story](http://thefilthiestpiglet.tumblr.com/post/147083051488/i-kept-waiting-for-someone-else-to-do-an-artfill)!

It was a stupid mistake and all his own fault. 

HYDRA would never have stood for anything close to this kind insubordination—they would have beaten it out of him long before it got this far.  But his new handlers (no, goddammit, his friends, his new _friends_ ) have been so kind, so lax with the rules and… Bucky has grown complacent.  Lazy. 

They’re all staring at him now; they’ve got him surrounded in a horseshoe around the hospital bed, all their faces dark with anger or contorted with dismay.  No means of escape. 

Not that Bucky would dream of trying to run from them.  This is all his own fucking fault and he deserves whatever punishment they want to mete out.

He’s still clutching his t-shirt in his hands; he resists the urge to pull it on, to cover himself up.  Bucky hunches his shoulders, lowers his head.  He tries to look as repentant, as contrite as he can.  It’s not hard—he’s so fucking sorry.

Stark was the one who spotted it first.  It figures.  One second he’d been joking with Clint on the other side of the bed, making some quip about getting shawarma now that the last of them was finally released from the hospital—but then he’d fallen ominously silent between one word and the next. 

Bucky felt the unease prickle over his skin even before Stark opened his mouth again—

“Barnes, what the _fuck_ is that?”

And then they’d all seen.  They’d all gone around him to get a look, and all Bucky could do was wring the t-shirt in his hands and wish like fuck that he’d had the presence of mind to ask them to leave before changing into his clothes.  But that’s not fair.  His handl—his _friends_ had a right to inspect his body as much as they wanted.  It’d been wrong of him to try to hide it in the first place.

But even more wrong than that was the fuckup he’d made of the new mark.

“Bucky, why do you have that— _that_ on your back?”  Steve’s voice is tight, like he’s making an effort to keep from yelling.  He’s being—generous.  They all are.  They haven’t even started punishing him yet, they’re giving him a chance to explain.  Bucky doesn’t deserve their kindness.  He lowers his head and waits for correction.

The silence stretches in the room, taut and heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, finally, when he can’t stand the strain any longer.  He doesn’t know what else to say.

“No—don’t, don’t apologize,” Steve says, his voice cracking, “Just tell me what’s going on.” 

Bucky still can’t bring himself to lift his head, to face his punishment the way he should.  He’s weak, and the shame is too heavy.  He watches with lowered eyes as Steve’s hands curl into fists.  Bucky can’t help it then, he flinches as the dread rushes into his gut.

“I’m sorry, please,” he says, “I know I should have removed the HYDRA mark all the way, I should have burned it off with acid—I was _going to_ , I swear.”  Bucky knows excuses aren’t allowed—but he can’t stop himself, he wants so badly for them to understand.  It was a mistake, a stupid lazy mistake.  Not insolence, not defiance.

Bucky risks a glance up:  Steve’s face looks white, stricken.  He can’t believe that Bucky would repay the generosity they’ve all shown him with this level of misbehavior.  Bucky has betrayed their kindness, and now they can’t trust him.

Bucky curls over his knees a little more—he can’t help it, he’s weak and pathetic and fucking ungrateful.  He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to hold the words back, but they spew out of him anyway, the justifications, the feeble explanations.

“I know I need to be punished for it—I’m not trying to get out of it, I swear,” he says, “But please, I didn’t mean it, I never meant to make a mess of the new brand.”  Bucky’s hands twitch again and he has to force himself to hold still, to not twist and try to cover up the mangled mess at the small of his back. 

The “A” he’d carved beside the old HYDRA mark is crooked and untidy.  It had been difficult to reach behind himself, and working off of the bathroom mirror had been confusing—his hand kept wanting to go in the wrong direction.  He’d fully intended it to be a temporary mark, he’d meant to go to Banner or Stark or one of the doctors, maybe, to get it done right.  But he’d been lazy about it.  Then when no one had mentioned it, it had slipped to the back of his mind and—he’d forgotten. 

The shame washes over him again, he feels like he’s drowning in it.  Bucky can’t believe how neglectful, how ungrateful he’s been.

“Bucky—” Steve’s voice has dropped to a hoarse whisper now.  The others are still silent, they’re all still staring at him, shocked, appalled at his insubordination.

“Please,” Bucky tries one more time, “I’m so sorry.  I promise, I _know_ who I belong to.”

There’s no response—they’re clearly done listening to his bullshit—and Bucky braces for the pain to begin.  When it doesn’t, he makes himself look up again.

Steve has backed away a few steps.  His face is averted, and his hands are still curled into fists.  He can’t even bear to look at Bucky anymore.  Bucky doesn’t blame him.

He fucking deserves it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked scarred-up Bucky, there's more of him in [Come Round Full Circle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7072165/chapters/16075393). (That story is a lot darker though, so please mind the tags/warnings and read at your own risk.)
> 
> I’m using this to fill the _Unhappy Ending_ box on my Trope bingo card (Round 7).
> 
> All feedback is hugely appreciated. You can also discuss this story (or anything else) with me on [Tumblr](http://kaesaria.tumblr.com/). **(ETA: And now also on Imzy.[Come play with me!](https://www.imzy.com/kaesaria))**
> 
> BTW: I'm still [taking prompts](http://kaesaria.tumblr.com/post/147474213969/prompt-me-please)! C’mon folks, help me get over this writers block slump.


End file.
